Brent
Brent cursed to himself before he answered the phone call, snapping into the receiver, “What?”
“You need to get down here, Brent.” It was his number-two man, Howie.
“It’s like 6 o’clock in the morning, Howie,” Brent said. He sighed into the phone as he walked back towards his bedroom. “I have work soon.”
“You have work now,” Howie said, a sharp edge to his voice that he reserved for serious occasions. “It’s urgent, okay? The guys have been up here all night talking, and they’re taking things to a vote.”
“A vote on what?” Brent asked. “We don’t have any major deals lined up to vote on.”
“It’s not about any deals,” Howie said. “It’s about you.”
Brent’s blood ran cold. He stopped outside his bedroom door, swallowing a few times before speaking again. “What about me?”
“We’re about to vote if you’re going to lead the Soul Catchers anymore. So get the fuck down here already,” Howie snapped. He hung up, leaving Brent with static and silence.
“Jesus Christ,” Brent muttered to himself. He really didn’t need this right now. Before he got disturbed, he was just about to explain to Kira that he ran the Soul Catchers. It was the perfect opportunity, as she’d just been talking about secrets and lies and double lives. But now it was gone, and he didn’t know when he’d get another chance.
Brent sighed deeply, steeling himself for a second before he turned around and headed downstairs, his mind still wrapped up with thoughts of Kira. He knew in a vague, distant sort of way, that this vote was bad news.
Somebody’s trying to steal the Soul Catchers from me, he thought to himself as he exited the house and hopped on his bike. The same person that’s been making sure every single mission has failed the past couple months. And I’ve got to find out who before it’s too late.
***
“All right, all right, settle down!” Howie yelled from the center of the main bar room in the Soul Catchers compound. He’d spotted Brent walking in a few seconds earlier, and now he was banging on the top of the bar with his fist, trying to get the attention of all the members in the room. “He’s here now, okay? Let’s let the man talk.”
“I want to vote already!” one of the younger members, Alex or Andrew or something like that, yelled out. Brent glared at the kid, his upper lip curling in disgust as he saw the way the junior member shrunk away from him physically, clearly intimidated. Such a wimp, Brent thought. We’re letting anybody and everybody in the MC nowadays. That’s probably half the problem.
Howie scowled at the kid, along with a few other junior members who muttered their agreement under their breath. “We’re going to give our fucking president a few minutes of our precious goddamned time before we vote on anything, all right?” Howie said. “Anyone got a problem with that?”
This time, nobody in the crowd gathered around Howie mumbled or made any other dissenting motion. Brent moved through the crowd, pushing people aside so he could take center stage in front of the bar. “Good morning, guys,” Brent said loudly so his voice would carry to the back of the room. “Been a few hours since I saw you last. Long time.” A few people chuckled in appreciation for his silly joke, but mostly the crowd of men just stared blankly at him, clearly expecting him to defend himself. Well, fuck that, Brent thought, clearing his throat. “I’m not going to waste your time here. Clearly some people think I shouldn’t be in charge. Things haven’t been great lately. I’m not going to lie to you about that. But I promise to you, if you keep me in charge, I will do everything in my power to find out who’s responsible for that. And they’ll pay. That’s all I have to say.”
Brent stepped back behind Howie and leaned against the bar casually even though his heart was pounding in his chest, bile threatening to rise up through his throat as his nervousness mounted.
“All right,” Howie said. “All in favor of replacing Brent as leader? Raise your hands now.”
Several arms lifted into the air, followed by a few more when it became clear that a considerable number of men in the crowd wanted to oust Brent as president. Brent fought as hard as he could to keep his face neutral, wanting to look as confident as possible even as he struggled to make out the faces of each man who voted against him. He needed to narrow things down if he was going to figure out who was trying to sabotage him, but it was hard to see everybody clearly in a room this crowded.
After taking a few moments to count the votes, Howie said, “Okay, raise your hand if you’re in favor of keeping Brent as president.”
Numerous hands shot into the air without hesitation, and Brent felt relief wash over him as it became clear that these votes outweighed the other ones. He was still president. He was still in charge. Brent exhaled heavily. He peeled himself off the bar and went to stand next to Howie, keeping his shoulders back and his head high. He needed to show strength here, now more than ever, so that the men who’d voted against him would know that he wasn’t shaken. I am shaken, though, he thought to himself, forcing a smile onto his face for the benefit of the crowd. I am very fucking shaken.
Brent pretended as well as he could, stumbling through several polite interactions with senior members of the MC before going into his office and changing his clothes into a work outfit that he kept at the compound for emergency late nights/early mornings like this. He had to deal with his clients first, but then it was time to focus on the MC. It was slipping away from him, little by little. It hadn’t happened today, but if he didn’t stop the discontent that was brewing among the junior members of the club, it was going to happen eventually. And he couldn’t abide that. He hadn’t devoted his entire life to this club only to have it ripped away from him.
But he realized with a sick, heavy certainty as soon as he exited the clubhouse, walking past various smiling faces of old and young members alike, that he didn’t know whom to trust. Sure, there was Howie, who was as loyal as they come, but for everybody else, he couldn’t be sure if they were on his side or not. He couldn’t exactly walk up to every person in the organization and ask if they were plotting to take control. Who could he turn to for help?
There’s Kira, he thought as he hopped back on his bike. She knows people. She’s good at reading them. She could help.
But he hadn’t even told Kira about the MC yet. Tonight, he promised himself as he sped off towards his office across town. Tonight, I will tell her. I’ll give her the missing piece of myself, and we’ll go from there.